


Tumblr prompts

by everybreathagift



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 05:50:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5152661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everybreathagift/pseuds/everybreathagift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various ficlets from Tumblr prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Hannibal drawing Will (who's naked on the bed or couch or something) and then Hannibal gets distracted by Will staring at him_

**

 

It always felt a bit ridiculous to Will, how Hannibal could spend hours bent over a sketch pad, detailing in pencil all the finer lines of Will’s body. It wasn’t that Will thought himself ugly, he just didn’t think himself at all, and Hannibal always drew him as something akin to a god. Will was lying across their bed, nude, holding a position that had inspired Hannibal’s hand.

He wasn’t terribly put out by it all, though; any chance to see his lover in rapt concentration was worth any amount of self-conscious discomfort. Hannibal’s maroon eyes, endless depths of passion, would dart up on occasion, capturing another crevice or line, and his lips stayed pursed, almost a pout. His hair, more silver than not these days, fell across his forehead in gentle sweeps. Wearing only silk pajama bottoms, the contours of his shoulders and collarbone caught the low lighting perfectly.

He was stunning. Will was average. If either of them deserved a timeless capture…

"You’re staring,” Hannibal said, not looking up but Will could see his eyes crinkle with amusement.

“It’s hard not too,” Will admitted, dropping his gaze to appreciate silk-covered thighs that he knew felt like steel caressed by satin.

Hannibal’s hand only stuttered over the paper for a fraction of a second before he continued, but Will noticed. He kept staring. 

“It’s painfully distracting, you realize.” 

Will hummed, giving into the urge to stretch his back from holding a steady position, arching and twisting. He heard the sound of discarded materials and felt the bed dip, then Hannibal was hovering over him.

“You’re devastating to my self control.”

“I can hardly be blamed for your inability to finish a simple drawing,” Will teased, catching Hannibal’s lips with his own.

Hannibal kissed him like a burning man and Will was ice, like he wanted to devour him entirely. The slightest moan from Hannibal and Will was lost, clinging tight.

He was prepared to hold the position again tomorrow


	2. Chapter 2

_Will seeing Hannibal in pajamas the first time or like just underdressed. Maybe season 1?_

**

Will wasn’t sure why he was knocking on Hannibal’s door at five in the morning, or why he hadn’t even bothered to call first. He just knew that he couldn’t shake his nightmare, and he needed to see Hannibal’s face not covered in black death or gored. 

Will shivered as the image became clear in his mind again, and he knocked louder, bouncing on his toes as he waited. 

Just as he contemplated breaking it down, the door opened, and then there was Hannibal. Will’s chest ached at the sight of him, perfectly whole and healthy. 

“Will? Is everything alright?”

Despite the time, and the obvious sleep still in Hannibal’s eyes, Will couldn’t help but gape the smallest fraction at Hannibal in his state of undress. 

Red, silk pajama bottoms that probably cost more than Will’s car, and no shirt. How had he never noticed the tone of Hannibal’s arms and shoulders before?

“Will, are you awake?”

That snapped Will back to the moment and he immediately looked at his worn boots. “Yeah, I- uh, had a nightmare and- I’m sorry about the time, it’s just that I-”

Will gave up trying to explain and turned to go. Hannibal was fine, and Will was being rude.

“Please, come inside,” Hannibal urged, voice warm. “The temperature is ghastly and you look exhausted. I’ll make some tea.”

Hannibal stepped back and opened the door wider, and suddenly, Will couldn’t for the life of him think of a single reason to leave. 

As he stepped inside, Hannibal took his coat, and he shivered again at the ghost of fingers against his neck. 

“Have a seat in the kitchen. Let me dress and I’ll be back in a moment.”

Will had to bite his tongue against the words ‘you’re dressed fine,’ which he realized a moment later was a wonderful thing as he watched the muscles in Hannibal’s back twist and bulge when he walked away. 

Will couldn’t exactly feel sad about seeing it. Though, he was sure the shirt Hannibal wore would depress him greatly.


	3. Chapter 3

_Will being protective of Hanni even though Hannibal is like super skilled_

**

It was an overreaction, really. All the man had done was nudged Hannibal, but the heavily accented, “fucking move,” while shoving Hannibal into the wall (hard enough to scuff the leather of his jacket) is why Will couldn’t let it go.

It was unbearably rude. Will had grown to hate rudeness. Not to mention, he’d purchased that jacket for Hannibal, and loved the way it looked on him. 

So, he told Hannibal they were going hunting. 

Looking back on that, he wishes he hadn’t. Not because he doesn’t want to kill the man, no, he wants that now more than ever, but because seeing Hannibal bleed by any hands other than his own makes his head spin and his heart ache. 

One punch while they were distracted and Hannibal’s lip was split, blood spilling down his chin. Will had instinctively reached out to steady Hannibal, and this man -this disgustingly wretched thing- pulled a knife from his breast pocket, then aimed for Hannibal’s chest. 

Will managed to knock his arm away, but the blade still caught Hannibal’s bicep, tearing fabric and flesh, pulling a hiss from Hannibal’s lips. 

Will swung, the sound of Hannibal’s pain ringing through his ears, and he needed to drown it out with the crack of bone. The man dropped like a weight, hands slightly twitching, and Will wanted to beat those involuntary movements out of him, as well. 

“Will,” Hannibal’s voice was distant, but his hand on Will’s shoulder was very present.

Will spun, urgently but gently checking Hannibal’s arm before cupping Hannibal’s cheek in his palm, lightly touching the gash in his lover’s lip.

“He made you bleed.”

Hannibal looked shocked for a moment, then two, before kissing Will deeply. It was too short, but Will could taste Hannibal’s blood on his tongue, and he wanted to see the man’s insides, feel them between his fingers.

“Will, I’m perfectly alright, but your hand is broken. We need to-”

“You’re not perfect, Hannibal, he made you _bleed_ ,” Will’s voice was raw. “I want to see his bones break. All of them. And we’ll not be taking any of his filth back to our home.”

Hannibal smiled, eyes filled with adoration before he closed them, resting his forehead against Will’s and whispering, “You speak of sins and they sound like the sweetest hymns to my ears.”

But when Hannibal kissed him again, the metallic taste was still there, and Will’s mind raged. When he tried to turn away, Hannibal held him close with his uninjured arm. 

“You’ll obliterate his very existence, and I’ll be right here to worship your presentation. But please, be mindful of your hand. It’s dreadfully broken and I’d rather you not make it worse.”

Many hours later, when Will’s bloodlust was sated and the man was nothing but mangled parts, they bandaged each other’s wounds. 

Hannibal made Will promise not to use his hand for a few weeks. Will spent the rest of the night whispering reverence into Hannibal’s skin.


	4. Chapter 4

_Indulgent sugardaddy Hannibal and demanding sugarbaby Will_

**

“This set is old,” Will remarked, looking at the tattered oven mitts lying across the stove. He’d originally bought them when he first moved in, and they didn’t see a lot of use. Until Hannibal started spending more time there, of course. 

Arms encircled his waist, and warm lips found the back of his neck. “I’ll buy you another.”

“But they match the rest of my kitchen.” 

Hannibal pulled Will’s t-shirt off his shoulder a bit, dragging his mouth over the skin there. “I’ll buy you different dishes.”

Will shivered. Though Hannibal’s tone was the perfect amount of distracted, Will knew he meant every word. He knew because he could feel it, hot and hard pressing against him.

“And new towels?”

Hannibal shifted Will by the hips so they were face to face, lips still firmly attached to Will’s throat, dry hands sliding under Will’s shirt.

“And new towels. New appliances. We’ll gut it and start from ground up, if it would please you. Anything.”

Will smiled, warmth filling his chest as he forced Hannibal’s lips to his own. He was caged against the counter, and every tiny movement granted pressure in every place he wanted. 

Will pulled back just an inch, lips still ghosting over Hannibal’s. “Take me shopping.”

He was rewarded with Hannibal’s arm dragging him roughly from the counter, and then he was lifted, being carried with ease to the bedroom. Instinctively, he wrapped his legs around Hannibal’s waist, grinning down at him.

“I didn’t realize there was a home decor shop in my bedroom.”

“It’s in Paris, actually,” Hannibal said as he gently placed Will on the bed. “Since I’ll be buying you a new wardrobe for the aesthetics there, I’ve decided to allow myself the indulgence of ruining the garments you’re wearing now.”

“You’re taking me to Paris?” Will asked breathlessly, feeling giddy, sinking further into the bed as Hannibal climbed over him.

“To start. It’s magnificent this time of year.” Hannibal was already lifting Will’s shirt, teeth catching skin at the base of Will’s ribcage. “Then, anywhere you’d like to visit.”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere,” Hannibal declared as he kissed further down Will’s body. “Anything. I’ll give you everything you desire, Will, just ask.”

Will groaned and fisted the sheets. “Your mouth? Right now? Before I lose my mind, preferably.”

Hannibal just grinned.


	5. Chapter 5

_I would love to see some therapeutic spanking with fluffy aftercare._

**

Will’s head was fuzzy, stuttering pulse and horrified screams in his ears as he squirmed in Hannibal’s lap. Everything hurt, everything felt so _good_. The hands on his ass were warm, slightly damp with sweat and completely unforgiving. 

“Please,” Will begged, voice broken, wanting it all to stop and never stop. Wanting to escape and hang on. 

“Almost there, darling,” Hannibal murmured, dragging his nails over the abused skin on Will’s thighs. 

Will pushed and pulled and _screamed_. His throat was tight with tears that he couldn’t let go of, not yet. He needed more, deserved more.

One, two, three slaps in quick succession landed across his ass, white, hot pain searing down to his bones. His knees locked, then crumbled, his entire body going lax as the first tear spilled. 

That one was always reserved for Abigail. 

“Good boy,” Hannibal whispered, running his palm over every welt. “Just a few more.”

“I _can’t_ ,” Will groaned, but his back arched into Hannibal’s touch. He was so close.

“You can,” Hannibal said definitively. “You will. Until you’re whole again.”

Will didn’t want to be whole. He wanted to be ripped apart and dragged through hell. He wanted to burn, feel the depths of pain he knew other’s had felt. They never left his head, and they were always so loud. 

The sob Will had been choking back for nearly an hour finally tore its way from his throat when Hannibal’s hand connected with his flesh again. The tears fell freely then, as Will was enveloped with silence and warmth and security. No more screams, no more cries for help from the dead, just the soothing voice of his lover to help him float and wade through the downpour.

Hannibal was speaking softly as he gently repositioned Will to cradle him against his chest, words flitting back and forth between languages. All Will could do was cling to him until the tears slowed.

“Thank you,” Will rasped, looking up at Hannibal’s face. 

“You do unspeakable things to my heart, darling, it’s my greatest pleasure.”

Will hummed and snuggled closer, eyes falling shut. His limbs were heavy and his mind was clear, blissful and exhausted.

Hannibal carried him bridal style to the bed, easing Will onto his side. 

“You should really allow me to bathe you, dear, you’ll be quite sore tomorrow and the hot water would do you wonders,” Hannibal said, pushing Will’s matted hair back from his face.

“In the morning, promise. Just want you to hold me,” Will replied, tugging on Hannibal’s arm in attempt to pull him down. 

Hannibal pressed a soft kiss to Will’s lips, cupping his cheek. “It’s impossible to deny you anything,” Hannibal sighed, smiling a bit. “Very well, but at least let me obtain the salve. I’ll only be a moment. It will help me rest easier.”

“Hurry, please,” Will mumbled, completely unwilling to let go but also wanting to put his lover’s mind at ease. 

Will knew he must have dozed for a moment when he felt Hannibal’s bare skin pressed to his. Curling into Hannibal’s chest, Will barely had the strength to hiss when Hannibal massaged the cool cream into his broken flesh. 

Will tipped his head back to kiss under Hannibal’s chin, nuzzling a bit when Hannibal’s arms tightened around him.

“I absolutely adore you,” is all Will caught before he started to drift off.


	6. Chapter 6

_I would love to see Hannibal try to get Will out of a rather nasty subdrop._

**

The session had gone wonderfully, as it always did. Hannibal had strapped Will raw, fucked Will with his favorite toy, and brought him to orgasm twice. Will was in subspace within minutes, and had remained there. 

Then, Hannibal received an emergency call from one of his patients and had to leave. Will wasn’t even dressed before Hannibal was whispering heavy apologies and running out the door. 

Four hours later, Will is curled up in Hannibal’s chair, wearing Hannibal’s shirt and ruining it with his tears. He feels inadequate -he hadn’t even given his Sir an orgasm. 

He hates that he’s so needy. That’s probably why Hannibal left and hasn’t come back; he needs a break from Will’s constant whining and attachment. Will is _broken_ , and Hannibal finally realized it.

Will drives everyone away. He’s repulsive, inside and out. But he honestly believed that he was good enough for Hannibal, and that makes him feel even more ridiculous. 

“Will?” 

He looks up at Hannibal through watery eyes, but it just makes his chest constrict even tighter. Hannibal is wonderful and Will… isn’t.

“I ruined your shirt.”

Will sniffs and buries his face his hands, unable to see the look of disdain he knows will cloud Hannibal’s features. He knows he can’t take that, not right now. 

But then Hannibal is crouched down in front of him, pulling Will’s face up to meet his eyes. “I cannot properly explain how intensely regretful I am that I had to leave you.”

“S'okay,” Will mumbles, really not interested in hearing Hannibal’s excuses. They always have excuses, when Will knows it’s just him. 

“It’s not. A patient was threatening suicide and I had an ethical obligation to aid them, but I should’ve just let them sink or swim. It’s not okay, and I apologize with every fiber of my being.“

Will just shakes his head and silently curses the wetness on his cheeks. The last thing he wanted was Hannibal to see the usual fallout of abandonment. As though he needed more proof of Will’s unhealthy attachment.

“Will you come with me? I’m tempted to carry you, but I haven’t had the opportunity to check your back.”

Will looks into Hannibal’s eyes, wondering why he’s still bothering. Shouldn’t this be over already? He should be gathering Will’s things, awkwardly apologizing for things he hasn’t done while pushing Will out the door.

But Hannibal looks, well, sad. For the first time, there’s no stoic expression on his face; he looks _devastated._

Hannibal pulls Will into his chest, but the scent of him just makes Will cry harder. Hannibal kisses his hair, running his thumb over Will’s cheek.

“Let me take care of you. Please.”

It’s his tone. Much like his expression, Hannibal sounds dejected and desperate. It’s wrong because it’s him, the most confident man Will has ever known, and Will wants to find the atrocity that reduced his Sir to this and crush it between his fingers.

Though Hannibal had said he didn’t want to carry Will, he practically does, arms cradled tight around him as they walk up the stairs and to Hannibal’s bathroom.

He only lets go of Will long enough to run the water, and then he’s removing Will’s shirt -his shirt- and kissing him. Hannibal touches every inch of skin he can, fingers ghosting over Will’s collarbones, down his chest, over his ribs. Will whimpers.

“Feel me. I’m right here,” Hannibal murmurs. “And all the gods and demons couldn’t pry me from you.”

Will hisses as the hot water hits the welts on his back. He feels raw, inside and out, eyes stinging and shaking hands. He notices, though, as Hannibal kneels next to the tub, that his fear isn’t an overwhelming thing anymore. Still there but not suffocating.

“Will you be alright for just a moment while I run to the kitchen?” Hannibal asks, rolling his sleeves up to elbows.

Will reluctantly nods. The panic surges again for a brief moment as he watches Hannibal leave the room, and he curls into himself, shivering despite the warm water around him.

When Hannibal returns -inhumanely fast- his arms are full and it takes Will a moment to accept what he’s seeing.

“You… have junk food?”

“I’ve seen your pantry,” Hannibal says plainly while arranging the bags of chips, cookies and individually wrapped cakes neatly on the bathroom counter. “I took note of the items I’d seen more than once and decided it safe to assume they were among your favorites. I purchased some to keep here for you.”

Will swallows with a tight throat and isn’t that just ridiculous? Emotional over junk food, but the gesture overwhelms him with intense happiness, and before he can stop it, he’s crying again.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with me?” Will groans into his hands.

“The term is ‘subdrop’,” Hannibal says softly, crouching next to the tub again. “It’s a severe, sudden drop of emotional state from the endorphins released during scenes. This is why aftercare is so very important.”

Will’s heard the term, but never thought he’d experience it. Thankfully, the knowledge makes him feel slightly less like a basket case.

“This is entirely my fault, I’m afraid. My quick departure was perceived as abandonment, and I’ve never questioned my ability as much as I am in this moment. I’m so incredibly sorry, Will.”

The dejected tone is back and Will hates it more than ever. Hannibal’s hands are everywhere, no concern for getting wet, massaging the soreness from Will’s arms and caressing Will’s chest.

“I’m okay,” Will promises, not entirely sure it’s true but knows it will be. “This was unavoidable, Sir, please, don’t beat yourself up about this. You couldn’t just ignore your patient. It’ll pass, right?”

“Yes, of course. I’m going to tend to your welts, feed you as many of these repugnant excuses for cake you desire, then I’m taking you to bed where we’ll stay for the rest of the evening. I’ve made tea, as well.”

Will positively beams, head lulling to the side to smile at his lover. “You’re actually going to touch a Debbie cake?”

Hannibal’s nose crinkles adorably, but his eyes are fond. “My fingers will be smelling of them for days.”

Will has to kiss him, despite dripping water all over Hannibal’s slacks and the bathroom floor. He feels mostly calm, finally, and wants nothing more than to crawl into bed with Hannibal and sleep for days.

“Just don’t let go yet, okay?” Will whispers against Hannibal’s lips, gripping his forearms tightly.

“Never.”


End file.
